Mark My Words
by Safely Away
Summary: She held onto his words like a vise. Before his departure and long after his return. Au.


_A/N _

_GUYS. _

_Hello, hello! I cannot believe I am here again, with another fanfic of a trilogy that still has my heart. I have missed writing Divergent fics—can never get enough of Tris and Tobias in any universe. Been sitting on this piece for years until I started to rework it and here we are! Here's the thing though: I'm not completely finished and am still writing the chapters out so this story can have a linear trajectory that just makes it easier for me :) but for some reason, I just really wanted to get this out there! (Probably because when I posted that little drabble about WTS, I got such a sweet response). I'm a little all over the place because I'm still working on a last chapter of a HG fic that needed to go up last week *sigh* So bear with me for a little while until I've got a steady posting schedule, but for now, I am so excited to introduce this special, new universe to you all. And now without further ado, I present to you, _Mark My Words_. _

_All my love,_

_Jo_

* * *

The air was thick. Much too thick for the nighttime. The inescapable heat of the day slithered its way into the evening much to Beatrice's dismay. Nevertheless, outside she sat, on the rickety swinging chair that suspended low under her shutters and over her porch. Yes, it was hot, but better than inside. Here she could try and catch a breeze, or really try and chase one. And it worked. A slight, ever so slight, wind creeped in between her toes. But it was gone as fast as it came. Teased her, like a whisper.

Her bare feet barely scraped the ancient wooden planks beneath her as she rocked her legs back and forth, back and forth, creating a constant squeak and a groan. It melded into an interesting cacophony alongside the what seemed like hundreds of crickets scattered around the fields. They were especially loud tonight. Beatrice smiled up at the star-spotted sky. Maybe something was coming.

Maybe it was rain.

She sighed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. It hadn't rained in their small Oklahoma town in eight months. Not too long, but long enough. People were starting to use the D word but she refused to. It wasn't that bad. It would rain. It would.

Unconsciously, she tapped out her fingers to imitate the droplets. _Pitter patter, pitter patter_. Then it hit her. Something new, a tune, a beat. She reached for her guitar and realized it was upstairs in her room, perched on the top shelf in her narrow closet. Untouched.

She cursed. The moment was gone.

The land wasn't the only thing that was dry as of late. She hadn't written a song, a lyric even in over a month. It was weird, she'd never had a spell like this before. Well, she did one time. Right after _he_ left…

Something twisted in her chest and she swallowed hard. _Out of sight, out of mind_ she filled her head with that mantra. She had to.

"Dinner!"

Beatrice absentmindedly followed her mama's voice into the house, leaving the screen door propped open just a bit. There was never any need to lock it. In a town of 400, everybody knew everybody, and everything.

"Made your favorite," her mama handed her a bowl of chili and beans. "Maybe it'll help your creative juices flow."

Beatrice gratefully took the food and sat at the round top table. "Thank you mama, but the only juices that'll be flowing are in my mouth."

The older woman took her own seat. "As long as you do that with your mouth _closed_," she tapped on her daughter's nose. Sometimes she forgot her daughter was twenty.

Beatrice good-naturedly rolled her eyes and dug into her food, not bothering to stifle a moan. "So did Caleb call today?" She asked around a mouthful. "He said he would last time."

Her mama took an awfully long drag of water before shaking her head. Beatrice slowed her chewing so she wouldn't bite her tongue in the anger that was rising up her throat. Her older brother hadn't called for two months now, and she knew it was killing her mama. He was being selfish, which was what she'd told him on their last phone call.

"_You only think and care about your own damn self_," she had hissed through the receiver when she was sure her mama was out.

"_Bea, you wouldn't understand_," he had sighed back.

"_Just because you're in college doesn't give you the excuse to forget your family. Forget where you came from-"_

"_It's different here!" _He yelled. "_I can make a name for myself. I have a choice-"_

"_And what? I didn't? I chose to stay, Caleb." _

"_And that was your decision. This one is mine. I'll get to you when I can,_ Bea." He hung up the phone.

Beatrice reached out a hand to put over her mama's. "He'll call," she smiled.

* * *

Tris awoke to dawn, light enough to peer through the blinds of the window above her bed but just dark enough not to cast any shadows. She still had a few hours before she had to go in for her shift, but something was a little off. She sighed and reluctantly peeled open one eye to find her best friend in her desk chair furiously typing on her phone.

"Oh good," Christina looked up from the device and smiled. "You're awake."

Tris dug her head deep into her pillow. "What are you doing?"

"More like what are _you _doing? Did you forget we have to go in early today for restocking? The shipment comes in...20 minutes." Christina added as an afterthought. "One would think you'd have better communication considering it's your family's store."

Tris cursed a string of obscenities that would put God to shame and pushed aside her covers. "I forgot."

Christina snickered and settled back into her chair, emitting a long creak. "Obviously."

Tris rose from her bed but not before giving her friend a look. "You know, we do have a door. Some people even do this crazy thing called knocking."

Christina snorted. "You're so cute when you're tired."

Tris dragged her feet to the bathroom in the hall. She was careful to only let the sink run for a second to dampen her toothbrush and just a splash to her face. They couldn't afford to waste any water.

"Your outfit is set out on your bed," Christina told the blond girl as she made her way back into the room. She looked so odd, tall and chic holed up in the corner of Tris' vintage shoebox bedroom, then again she always did.

Tris held up the little pastel pink dress and shook her head. "This isn't mine."

"Now it is," Christina stood. "Hurry up."

"Christina," Tris rolled her eyes. "You know how I feel about you buying me things."

"Oh relax," Christina waved off. "My mom sent it to me and it didn't fit."

Tris found that hard to believe. Her mother was a top fashion executive living it up in New York. Her entire career called for attention to detail.

"The tag is engraved with my name on it!"

"Details details. It can be an early birthday present," Christina fixed her hair in the mirror.

"My birthday isn't until next month."

"Happy Hanukkah."

"It's June and we aren't Jewish."

Christina spun around, hands on her hips. "Look, I like buying things for you, you're my best friend. It's a form of affection. And I like dressing you up." Christina bopped her friend's bottom. "So let's gooooo."

Tris hid her smile ridding her sleep clothes. "Okay, okay."

* * *

The trek through their humble tiny town was of the usual. The hospitable greetings to longtime friend passersby, the pastel rickety hues of buildings and homes that have been there for generations, the smell of a town with only four hundred residents. But Tris liked it that way. Everyone liked it that way. Amity was its name; joyful, quaint.

The Prior store was in the midst of all of this, always a haven for goods and gadgets of all kinds. It was a cute place. White shutters outlined the clear door with a bell that jingled a little too much for comfort. And a bright interior with shelves lining all four walls. But it wasn't crowded. Just enough space for the bustle of people to get and go.

It had been an especially busy day at the store today. This was in part of the day's new shipments. Fresh produce - with the guarantee that thirsty insects wouldn't swarm - only came once in the middle of the week twice a month. And it was only the two of them at the counter. Sure it was the same old residents who'd seen them in diapers and knew their family history like the back of their hands but help was still necessary in many cases. The buzz only began to slow down in the late afternoon.

Tris' elbow was sore from fanning herself with a month old flyer and even though Christina argued the action would just make her hotter, she was feeling immediate relief. The automatic fan was busted again from the all day every day usage so they all had to fend for themselves. At least the temperature didn't reach over 100 this time. A feat in itself.

The door chimed a simple tune, true and pitchy. The girls directed their attention towards the entryway where an elderly woman with bright blue eyeshadow strolled in. Tris fanned in front of her face to hide her smile and Christina had to look away to compose herself.

"Hello dearies," the woman chirped.

"Good afternoon Mrs. O'Leary," Tris recovered. "What can we do for you today?" She asked but she already knew. She always came to get just one item: peaches. Two pounds to be exact. Lord only knew what she did with them.

"Well," she went off in an aisle. "Just getting myself some peaches."

"Yes ma'am," Tris gave a knowing smile.

"Last week it was the bright pink lipstick," Christina snickered under her breath when she was sure the elderly woman was out of sight. "Now, it's the eyeshadow? How old does she think she is?"

Tris snorted and disguised it as a cough. "Chris, stop." Although her wicked grin indicated otherwise. "Maybe she's just feeling herself."

"Oh my god," Christina widened her eyes. "Don't ever say that again."

"You know what I meant," Tris giggled. "Maybe she's looking for a third mister O'Leary." In a small town with nothing happening most of the times, there needed to be a source of gossip for the church ladies with the big hats to whisper about, and Mrs. O'Leary was the main target. For a while Tris felt bad about it, but Mrs. O'Leary certainly didn't care, which she made everyone aware of at the Town Ball last fall when she single-handedly gave the bird and told them to suck her wrinkly ass.

Christina almost passed out from laughing so hard.

"Don't you mean a fourth?" Christina laughed. "And that's if she doesn't die first."

"What was that dearie?" The old woman was right in front of them with a bag of peaches ready for purchase.

"Thirst!" Christina gestured to the lemonade display on the table to the right. "It is raging hot outside, please take a glass, on us of course."

Mrs. O'Leary gratefully indulged on the offer as Tris weighed the peaches and placed them in a basket, calculating the total on the rusted cashier.

"Same as last time, Ma'am," Tris said as Mrs. O'Leary gave the money and departed after a hearty goodbye. Before the door could even close, someone else strolled in.

Tris' face fell by habit. "Hey Frank," she greeted sullenly.

"Beatrice," the mailman responded. "Christina."

"Frank," she half-smiled.

It wasn't that they disliked the short man, he was kind to everyone. It was what he carried Tris didn't always love.

"What's the damage for today?" She asked.

Frank handed her a thick pile of envelopes with the same familiar red print on the fronts and a magazine for Christina.

"Have a good one ladies," he tipped his hat and when he left Tris quickly skimmed through the bills.

"Tris," Christina started. "You know I can help."

Shoving the pile into her bag, Tris shook her head. Her friend was rich, one of the richest in town in fact. The Masters' were humble, loving people but they didn't have to endure a lot of hardships most folks in town had to go through. Heck, the only reason she was working at the Prior's little store was because her father had thought it would give her a sense of pride- and without pay. And she knew her friend just wanted to help out but Tris couldn't take their money.

"Chris, thank you again but no," Tris said.

Christina crossed her arms. "You're stressed. And those bags under your eyes aren't designer."

Tris busied herself with wiping down the mucky counter. It was a hard season. With the absence of much needed water and rain and Caleb being gone, it's been difficult. Not to mention how busy her mother had been with dealing with the other financial issues that plagued them.

"Look," Tris sighed, stopping. "If I get into a really bad place I'll let you know. Okay?"

Christina was beside herself with pleasure. "Yes!"

"Okay," Tris chuckled, picking up the magazine. "And since when do you read _Vegan Mama's_?"

Christina slumped against the back wall and threw up her hands. "Oh my god, it's Kim's. She's driving me insane."

"I didn't know she was vegan," Tris said.

"Neither did we!" Christina yelled. "Until I woke up last week to the sound of her throwing out every meat and dairy product we had in the fridge in the middle of the night! She's said she's had an enlightenment."

"I'm listening," Tris sat on the stool in the corner.

"And this Monday," Christina continued, grabbing an apple from the sample stand. "She made us all wake up at 4 am and—get this—do yoga with her to synchronize our chakras." She took another bite waving her arms around. "I mean is this lady for real?"

Tris snorted. "What did your dad say?"

Christina rolled her eyes. "What do you think? He's obsessed with her and supports all of her crazy fads. If she weren't my step-mother, I'd think she's a nut." She munched in contemplation before shaking her head. "You know what, scratch that, she's still a nut."

"At least she's a sweet nut." Tris knew Christina's stepmother to be a kind and genuine women, even with all of her ill-timed obsessions. "I'm sure it'll blow over soon."

"I don't know about all that, but I'll tell you this. If she thinks this whole _ooommm _persona is going to prevent me from getting to my chicken," Christina tossed the core in the trash. "She's got another thing coming."

"Coming?" Said a deep, coarse voice. "I thought this was a family establishment. But hey, you can always hit me up if you need a release."

Christina rolled her eyes and sniffed the air. "Tris, I thought we already threw the trash out today?"

The man clapped. "That mouth, Christina. Maybe you could put it to another use."

"Asshole," she spat at the two men approaching the counter.

"Hey," he came closer. "If you're into that."

"Buy something or get lost, Edward," Tris interrupted.

"Hey now, baby," Peter came around, giving Tris a sly smile. "No need for that. We're just here for some sugar."

"Peter, you've known where the sugar is for the last ten years, and it ain't at this counter," Christina bit. "First aisle to the left."

They gave a sly smile before disappearing behind the aisle. Edward and Peter, were, as Christina called them, the parasites of Amity. Actually, she called them far worse than that, but it was Tris' personal favorite. Peter and Edward were, in comparison, night and day. Edward was a shadow, Tris had sworn she'd never seen him clad in anything but black and grey. And Edward was the typical redneck, plaid wearing, misogynistic twit that stereotyped the south. Together, though, their personalities were a bad recipe; like a cake with fish oil as frosting or a pickle juice popsicle. Weren't too bad alone, but together, were disgusting.

"Does murder still count if it's them?" Christina deadpanned, eyes trailing their moves behind the counter.

"We could hide the bodies in the chasm," Beatrice agreed. "Nobody would find them."

Christina eyed the leftover lemonade. "Rat poison is in aisle 2, don't tempt me."

Before her friend could acquiescence, Edward slammed two packs of beer on the counter.

"Will that be all?" Beatrice asked, as if she didn't already know their diets consisted of beer and cheese curls.

Peter leaned in and smirked. "Yes ma'am. Unless, you wanna throw in a little something sweet extra."

Christina guffawed. "Peter, you just don't know when to give up, do you? You've been pining after her for the past five years, and you just keep coming back. Like a pest. And I thought I already called the exterminators."

Whatever smile Peter had on his face, dissipated into a grimace.

"I highly doubt that, Chris. Maybe you're the one he likes," Beatrice played along.

Peter, growing increasingly agitated, slammed down what he owed for the purchase. "When pigs fly." He spat.

"Oh," Christina popped open her mouth. "You fly?"

Tris shoved the leftover cash in the boys' faces.

"Keep the change," Peter spit, eyes finally breaking from Christina's.

As they spun on their heels, he grabbed a swig of the lemonade, leaving the bits that didn't make the gulps to drop on the floor, and left.

Tris deflated as Christina tossed the pitcher into the garbage. "Can't be too careful with fucking vermin," she sneered.

Tris massaged the crink out of her neck. "He is going to kill you one day, I swear to god."

Christina chuckled. "I'll leave DNA _everywhere_."

Just then the mint green alarm clock in the corner shook singing its song. Beatrice jumped to turn it off.

"Thank God for lunch breaks," said the taller woman grabbing her purse. "Come on, I'll treat you to one of Kim's Tofu-burgers."

Beatrice laughed. "Sounds incredibly tempting, but I'm not that hungry. I'm going to reorganize some inventory and clean up."

Christina furrowed her brows. "You sure?"

"Yeah, just flip the sign. I'll be in the back."

"Alright, girl," Christina bumped her friend's shoulder before heading out.

And then she was alone.

Her thoughts swarmed her like flies, as they always did when she had a moment to process them. A steady pattern of bills, her mother, the future and him. The edge of the broom caught on a nail in between the floorboards and she pushed the rod to release it before leaning against the doorframe of the room. A decade of growth did nothing to dispel the seed of wonder he planted in her before he left. And in her stillness, tendrils of him tugged at her. The worry she'd tried to placate with work and the reality of what was in front of her, still clung to her. She pretended like it didn't bother her too much anymore, to ease the pain of her family and her friends. She reserved those feelings for now. And they came, like a weight at her forehead, and she brought a palm to it.

A jingle from the doors interrupted her, followed by some footsteps. Everyone knew that the storefront was closed during lunch hours.

Beatrice came from around back, broom still in hand. The light hit her eyes, just so that she only made up the large shadow of a man in one of the aisles.

"Sorry sir, we're closed during lunch," Beatrice wiped the light speckles out of her eyes. "Come back in an hour and you can take your pick at whatever you're looking for."

The shadow got closer, morphing into jeans and boots, two hefty arms and then...

"Actually," the man whispered. "I'm looking for a person."

And that voice.

Beatrice stopped dead in her tracks.

The voice of the dustiest memory materialized in front of her.

* * *

_A/N Please let me know what you think so far. Say hey to me on tumblr before-our-time, PM me and/or please review! _


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